


Three Games Of Truth Or Dare

by thejigsawtimess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, M/M, Truth or Dare, drunk!Cas, drunk!Dean, drunk!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:09:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1709480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejigsawtimess/pseuds/thejigsawtimess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The first time isn't Dean's idea."</p><p>When Sam and Dean get drunk, ONE of them decides the best way to spend the evening is a game of Truth Or Dare. Oh, and bring your Angel too, Dean!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Game Of Truth Or Dare

**Author's Note:**

> This fiction will have three chapters. I aim to post the third (final) chapter tomorrow (May 30th).
> 
> I'm not completely sure as of yet how explicit the content will get, but regardless, that will be in the final chapter and if you choose, each of these chapters can be read as individual ficlets. 
> 
> Thank you, enjoy! Let me know what you think :)

The first time isn’t Dean’s idea. Okay, so he bought the three six packs of beer and the two bottles of tequila (seriously it’s the only thing that gets Cas drunk) but it was _Sam_ who drunkenly suggested they play the damn game at friggin two in the morning, all of them high off alcohol and adrenaline from the vampire hunt they’d just come back from; not ready to sleep just yet.

“What’s truth or dare?” Cas asks immediately, as soon as Sam lurches into the room declaring they should play it, a brilliant grin on his lips, his hair mussed and cheeks rouged.

Unfortunately, in his drunken state, Dean has little to no resistance to the idea, and you know how it is – it all seems like a marvellous idea _at the time._ So he flings his arm around Cas’s trenchcoated shoulders, both of them sat on the floor of the motel room for reasons he can’t remember, slumped against the foot of his bed.

“It’s a game! An _awesome_ game, you’ll like it a lot I swear. C’mon.” Dean replies, staring Cas right in his soulful eyes, possibly a touch too far into the precious ‘personal space’ he’s already made such a big stink about, but who cares? He turns and beckons to Sam, gesturing with his hand to try and convey the message ‘bring the alcohol’.

Sam understands – somehow he understands – and grabs the tequila along with one of the six packs of beer before slumping to the floor in front of them both. Dean unwinds his hand from Cas, only realising it’s still there when he feels the Angel fidget slightly.

“What are the rules?” Cas asks warily, taking the half empty bottle of tequila from Dean’s hands with trepidation.

“Oh it’s reeeal simple Cas,” Sam says enthusiastically, wrestling with the cardboard locking the beer necks in place, because everything is that much harder when you’re tipsy and your fingers seem weak and fumbly, “we’ll take it in turns, ask each other truth or dare.”

“An’ if you pick truth,” Dean continues, leaning forwards and digging out his pocket knife to jimmy two beers out because he doesn’t fuck around, “we ask you a question, you gotta tell the truth.”

“And if I don’t?”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot skywards and he glances at Cas, watching him sip from the bottle in his hands, his face deadly serious. Dean turns to Sam, amused.

“Forefeit.” They declare together, grinning mischievously.

“I see. And what about the dare option?”

“We get to dare you to do something, and you gotta do it no matter what.” Dean replies, turning to face Cas again and leaning back against the bed. He twists the cap of his beer easily and throws it before taking a long gulp, his eyes never leaving Cas’s. This is going to be awesome, he can tell. An Angel of the Lord playing truth or dare with the mud monkeys for the first time? Brilliant. “No chickening out on me now Cas, you’ll do what I dare you, won’t you?”

Cas stares back for a long time, his slender fingers stroking slowly up and down the neck of the tequila bottle. He appears to be studying Dean’s face, trying to suss his motives, but Dean’s careful to keep his expression neutral despite the drink, avoiding those narrowed cobalt eyes. If Cas figures out that he’s planning on messing with him a little, the game is up.

The Angel nods minutely, and takes another sip. Sam coughs suddenly, and Dean realises he’s been in a staring match with Cas for what feels like at least a minute. “Sorry.” He mutters, turning so he’s more evenly facing both other people in the room, and then he grins, bringing his beer to his lips. “Let’s play.”

* * *

 

“Okay Cas, seeing as it’s your first time, it’s only fair we start with you.” Sam says, smiling broadly as the angel looks mildly fearful. “Truth or dare?”

Dean shivers with excitement, whirling to face Cas immediately. He’s practically clapping his hands with glee.

“Um, dare.”

Dean has to admit, he’s a little shocked by that one. Most people have to be significantly more loosened up before they choose ‘dare’, and he gapes a little in surprise.

“Alright! Good man, Cas. Dean? Shall we confer?” Sam is saying, and Dean tears his eyes away to look at his brother. “Or did you have something…” Sam smirks, averting his eyes as he takes a gulp of beer. “…in mind?”

Dean thinks for a moment, his mind running a mile a minute with the thousand things he could have Cas do at this moment with the right phrasing. It brings a flush to his cheeks to hold this much power over the Angel, even if technically, _technically_ he could still refuse…

Angel. How often do he and Sam have an _A_ _ngel_ to play this game with?

“I dare you,” Dean begins, and as he drains the last of his beer he notices Sam looking a little put out, as if he wanted to be part of the decision making process on this one, “to fly and get me an English ale, brewed in the heart of… some English place up North I don’t know. Proper English though, none of this imported crap.”

Castiel looks a little relieved when he hears Dean’s request, and it annoys Dean a tad. Meh, he started off easy; let Cas think it’s all simple flights to good old Great Britain, later he’ll see what’s really in store.

Cas glances at Sam, who shrugs and nods vaguely, gesturing at him to go for it.

“Hold my tequila.” Cas says, low and demanding, shoving the half empty bottle into Dean’s free hand, and then he’s gone. There’s a few moments wherein Dean’s too drunk and too surprised to do more than turn blearily towards Sam, exchanging a look of bewilderment, and then there’s a flutter of wings, and Cas is back by his side. Except this time he holds a tankard of frothy liquid in his hand.

“Holy hell, that was awesome!” Dean exclaims, grinning as he exchanges the ale for the tequila, letting his empty beer bottle drop to the floor. He takes a sip, not caring that his nose dips straight into the head. It’s cold and pure and bitter, definitely authentic. “Well played, Cas.”

Dean grins at Castiel, catching one of those rare slight-smiles on his lips, and then flushing as Sam starts laughing at his beer moustache.

“Truth or dare, Sam!” Dean exclaims angrily, wiping his upper lip with his sleeve. The ale is strong, he can feel it, it’s making him a little dizzy already.

Sam barely even contemplates the question before shouting “truth!” and manoeuvring himself into a laying down position on his side.

“See what we have here Cas, is a sissy girl.” Dean says conspiratorially, leaning towards the Angel and winking, which he regrets doing two seconds later. “Alright, alright,” he cries in response to Sam’s bitchface, “truth it is. Have you ever had a lap dance?”

The pink staining Sam’s cheeks spreads across his entire face and he directs his gaze into his beer bottle before he takes a swig. Dean just grins, loving that he made his brother so uncomfortable so fast.

“Um,” Sam begins, his fingers playing absently with the label on his bottle, “once, yeah.”

“Oh?” Dean asks, mock innocence in his voice. Sam glares.

“Actually,” he says, his face tilting as he thinks about it, “no, twice.”

Dean nods, a little impressed he must say. His brother’s got a kinkier side to him it would seem. “Who?”

Sam’s back to flushing now, and he darts a look at Cas, maybe in the hope that the Angel will save him from this torturous interrogation. Cas actually smiles, as if he’s enjoying himself thoroughly, and Dean’s never been more proud.

“Um. Well, back in college, Jess…” Sam says, and Dean’s jaw drops open. Jess?! He _knew_ that girl looked like she was into some naughty stuff. Sam sees Dean’s reaction and rolls his eyes, giving his third bitchface of the evening, and yes, Dean is counting. “We were drunk, okay? She was- never mind.”

He downs the rest of his beer and rips another one out of the pack, scowling slightly, still flushed.

“Who was the second?” Dean presses, gulping down some more ale because it’s gorgeous stuff truly, like liquid velvet.

Sam sighs and runs a huge hand through his hair. “Ruby, okay? Ruby.”

Dean doesn’t even bother suppressing the shudder that runs through him at the sound of that bitch’s name on his brother’s lips. Vile, disgusting, treacherous Demon. But… Dean has to admit she was hot. Both times. So it makes sense that she would be the one to give Sammy a lap dance, but _still._ It doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“Really Sam? Good Lord.” Is Dean’s only response, and he opts for snatching the tequila out of Cas’s hands, taking a gulp of that instead. It burns on the way down but at least it’s a nice distraction.

“C’mon, was I really gonna stop her giving me a lap dance?” Sam protests feebly, but senses his turn is over by now. Dean’s stomach flips; this means it’s his turn.

“What _is_ a lap dance exactly?” Castiel pipes up before Sam can spit out the ultimate question. His head is tilted in that way of his as he asks, his hand reaching slowly to prise the tequila back out of Dean’s unresisting grip, keeping his gaze fixed on Sam.

Sam can’t help it, he dissolves into laughter, dragging Dean along with him. “ _Dude._ Oh man, you haven’t lived at all have you? All those years under your belt and you’ve never had a lap dance?”

Dean stops laughing abruptly, draining his ale and grabbing another bottle. “Okay, that’s enough, leave him alone.” Sam’s eyebrows lift but he says nothing. Cas looks vaguely disappointed that he didn’t receive an answer. “C’mon, my turn, I pick,” he turns to Castiel, leaning in towards him and smirking as they lock eyes, meaning to be dramatic but probably only coming off as predatory, “ _dare._ ”

As soon as the word leaves his lips he feels it’s a mistake; he really only said it to prove he was as much of a man as Cas himself, but the minute he hears Sam’s delighted chuckle, he knows he’s for it. He leans away from Cas, but not too far; for some reason he likes the feel of him being so close right now, though it’s almost definitely not helping him in the current situation, what with Sam’s dirty mind.

“Oh Dean.” Sam giggles, shaking his head sympathetically at his brother. “Did you forget that you should never underestimate me?” Sam laughs, loud and deep in the messy room. He sits up a little, holding his beer out towards the two of them and grinning. “I dare you to give Cas a lap dance. Show him what it’s all about.”

Cas starts at that, eyes wide, and he lets out a squeak of protest – surely a result of the tequila, because he’s never made that sound before. Dean just closes his eyes slowly, a deep loathing for his brother’s twisted little brain filling him up, and a bead of cold sweat runs down his neck.

His eyes flick open; Sam is watching with animated interest, his eyes darting between him and Cas as he takes hurried sips of beer. Dean turns to the Angel in question slowly, not wanting to freak him out, though it’s possibly a little late for that. At least he doesn’t exactly know what a lap dance entails – perhaps he thinks it could be something entirely innocent?

Dean has apparently forgotten that though ignorant, Angels are not stupid.

Cas looks petrified, the same look on his face as when Dean dragged him into that bar all that time ago, back when Cas had declared his probable demise with a nonchalant shrug, and Dean had been so shocked it had left him a little dizzy, and suddenly hookers seemed like a real good idea. “Can’t do it, Sammy.” Dean finds himself saying, not breaking his stare with Cas. “Cas is too innocent, y’know? It’d be like tarnishing a shiny new apple.”

A delicious apple at that, says Dean’s mind without permission, his eyes training themselves on Cas’s full pink lips.

“What?! Oh come on, you’re not serious! It’s just a lap dance!”

Cas looks so relieved at Dean’s refusal that Dean himself is stuck between feeling hurt and being happy that he took the fear out of Cas’s eyes. “Nah, I forfeit. Sorry Cas, guess you’ll have to wait to find out that particular one of life’s delicacies.”

“Okay… well, you know you _have_ to do the forfeit right?” Sam asks, a glint in his eye that Dean already despises. He sighs nonetheless, looking over at his brother and nodding. “Right. Then your forfeit is to kiss him. Kiss Cas. And before you protest, that’s nowhere near as bad, and I bet you he doesn’t mind you being his first – right Cas?”

Dean’s almost too stunned to move, but he has to know Cas’s answer to that question, so he whirls to face him, face flushed and eyes wide. “Cas, you don’t have to-”

“I… don’t think I…”

Relief cascades through Dean’s body, because that’s undoubtedly the start of a tentative ‘thanks but no thanks’ surely to God. Dean turns to Sammy, jabbing a finger at him and getting ready to rip him a new one for making things so unbelievably awkward not ten minutes into the game.

“Ya see? He’s perfectly happy as a pure, chaste, feathery little-”

“I don’t think I would mind.”

Sam lets out a whoop of pure joy at that, exactly the same time as Dean feels his body freezing up on him. “You sure Cas? At least you know you’re getting someone with experience.”

“Oh my god Sam, you are not surviving this game.” Dean hisses at his brother, and slowly, reluctantly, he turns to the Angel, soaking up his slightly wary, hesitant expression.

“Yes… exactly. And if that is the dare, well, Dean is my friend. I think I can tolerate kissing him.”

Dean scoffs at that, unable to help his defences rearing up a tad because he’s a little inebriated, and hey, it’s not like he brags about a lot – but he’s a damn good kisser! “Wow, that’s a ringing endorsement there, Cas.” Dean says, ripping another beer out of the pack and twisting the cap off quickly. “You shouldn’t kiss someone just cause they’re _tolerable_ though, and don’t listen to Sam, this is just a stupid game, you can do whatever you want.”

Dean can’t fathom why his heart is beating so fast right now, just like he has no comprehension of why his eyes keep gluing themselves to Cas’s lips. The lips he may or may not have to kiss quite soon. Hmm.

“But I thought you said I wasn’t allowed to ‘chicken out’?” Cas says, his eyebrows lifting as he brings the tequila to his lips. When he lowers the bottle it almost looks like he’s smiling a little. Dean doesn’t really have an answer for that one. He shrugs, not wanting to look at Sam, but doing so anyway and getting an eyeful of smug, extremely punchable little brother. “Regardless, it would be much better to experience my… ‘first kiss’, the thing that seems so significant to you humans, with a friend – wouldn’t you say? As opposed to a stranger, or worse, kissing nobody at all before my inevitable demise.”

“Mmhmm, uh huh, quite right Cas.” Sam is saying solemnly out of nowhere, a smirk in his voice that probably only Dean can hear, and Dean grits his teeth, chugging more beer. “And you don’t mind that Dean is… well, a guy?”

“Why would I care about that? I am a celestial being, I have no gender preference, if that’s what you’re referring to.”

Sam shrugs, just brimming with glee, the bastard. “Seems pretty legit to me. Pucker up Dean.”

Dean glares again, his blood thrumming through his veins as he realises yes, this is actually happening. He takes a long swig of his fine ale, hoping Cas likes the taste too – yep, that’s a thought that just ran through his brain – and turns to the Angel beside him.

“Okay.” Dean says as firmly as he can, shaking himself all over, preparing. “We can do this. I’m cool, you’re cool, we’re gonna… gonna… we can do this.”

“Yeah Dean!” Sam calls from behind him. “I believe in you!”

Cas tilts his head a little, confused by Dean psyching himself up. “Whenever you’re ready Dean.”

Cas sets down his tequila bottle and places his hands in his folded lap. The damn guy goes and closes his eyes too, making everything that much more real, and Dean nearly pees himself with nerves or excitement or… y’know, the fact he’s had three beers and not been to the bathroom yet.

Dean decides to just do it, never mind that Cas is his best friend and it’s all super weird, and they’re drunk and they’ll probably regret it tomorr-

“Oh for Christ’s sake!” Sam yells after about a minute of Dean doing nothing, and before he knows it, Dean is being shoved brutally forwards, straight into Castiel, who promptly falls backwards onto the floor, Dean on top of him.

Castiel’s eyes open in shock, and then even wider as he sees how close Dean’s face is to his own. Dean can’t help it, he smiles at the Angel’s confusion, remembering why he likes this guy in the first place. He dips his head, and their lips are fused, soft skin against softer skin, stubble scraping a little, but not in an unpleasant way. As expected, Cas seems a bit unsure what to do at first, so Dean coaxes him into it, pushing gently at his bottom lip, and eventually flicking his tongue against the supple, chapped flesh.

It’s a surprise, not a bad one either, when Cas decides to explore on his own, letting his own tongue sweep over Dean’s, eventually twining and venturing across the landscape of Dean’s mouth. Dean is lost in sensation; everything is warm, wet, sweet like rainwater. Cas is beneath him, his hands are twisting in his Angel’s coat lapels, Cas’s hands are on his shoulders, smoothing over his back, running up and down his arms.

A terrible noise breaks Dean out of his other-worldly experience, sending him crashing back to the physical plane with alarming speed. His lips leave Cas’s, and their eyes meet briefly, both in awe of what just occurred, before Dean sits up, reddening, remembering the situation.

The source of the noise it clear all too soon; Sam is crashed out on the floor, beer bottle clutched to his chest like a teddy, his mouth open and emitting harrowing snores that must surely be akin to those of a Wendigo or worse.

The giant idiot had apparently gotten bored waiting for them to finish and promptly fallen comatose.

“It appears the game has been cut short.” Castiel states, sitting up dazedly, his hair in slight disarray.

Dean nods, avoiding Cas’s eyes but chuckling. He genuinely can't decide whether that's a good or a bad thing.


	2. The Second Game Of Truth Or Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The second time... well, maybe it is a bit more Dean's idea."
> 
> Round Two, anyone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fiction will have three chapters. I aim to post the third (final) chapter tomorrow (May 30th).
> 
> Let me know what you think, and enjoy!

The second time… well maybe it is a bit more Dean’s idea. A few weeks have passed since the last game, and Dean hasn’t been able to shrug the whole incident off. Sam isn’t helping of course, he’s teasing Dean at every opportunity, asking him ‘what Heaven tastes like’ or if he’s worried Cas might be ‘falling’. Dean has no comebacks either, he just has to accept that he kissed Cas, that happened, and Sam’s jibes will continue until he can think of a way to make him stop.

So that’s when Dean gets the idea to host another game, only this time he will make sure it’s _Sam_ that embarrasses himself and provides bounteous blackmail material for weeks after.

He chooses an evening after they’ve successfully taken down a witch’s coven to ‘casually’ suggest round two of Truth Or Dare. Sam’s eyes gleam at the prospect of further torture and he is all too enthusiastic to run to the store and pick up the very necessary liquid confidence.

Dean smiles ruefully to himself, and throws the pillows and covers from both his and Sam’s motel beds onto the floor; last time was uncomfortable as Hell.

“Waiting for the right moment to pop the question?” Sam asks, smirking, when he’s returned with beer – and a couple of bottles of cheap tequila of course. He looks up at Dean, eyes questioning. “To ask Cas if he’ll join us, I mean.”

Dean frowns, turning from Sam to grab a beer, hoping his brother didn’t notice the slight flush in his cheeks. “Why can’t you ask him?” He grumbles, snapping the lid off his bottle and begrudgingly handing it to Sam before getting another.

Sam just lifts his beer to his lips and raises his eyebrows.

Dean sighs. “Fine. Alright Cas, if you’re up for round two of Truth or Dare, we’re about to-”

Dean’s almost knocked off his feet into the pillows by Cas’s sudden breezy appearance, his swift arrival causing Sam’s hair to flutter and Dean to take a step backwards. Cas is standing very close to him all of a sudden.

“Truth or Dare?” Cas asks, clearly very interested. “Yes, I will play. I enjoyed this game last time.”

Dean looks a little stunned to silence by the sight of his friend so close and so suddenly, but at length he blinks, returning to himself, and sits down on the pillows next to Sam, swigging some beer.

“Sit down then.” He says, and Cas does. Next to Dean.

Sam is grinning with glee by this point. “You enjoyed it last time huh, Cas?” He asks the Angel, grabbing one of the bottles of tequila and handing it to him. “Which part in particular?”

Dean splutters, choking a little on his beer, and glares at his brother. “Ignore him Cas, he’s being a bitch.”

“Jerk.” Sam replies, giggling as he sips.

“I enjoyed the dares.” Cas answers regardless, after a moment of thought. “It’s a strange human custom, but it is exploring the rein of free will and obedience, which is essentially the difference between humans and Angels. I feel I am good at dares because I have learned all my existence to be obedient.”

Dean stares at Cas, feeling warm suddenly as the Angel meets his eyes. “Getting’ kinda philosophical there buddy.” Dean laughs nervously. “It’s just a game.”

Cas smiles at him and Dean nearly faints, unable to stop his gaze flicking down to Cas’s stretched pink lips, remembering the feeling of having his own pressed against them. Sam coughs, loving every second.

“Drink up, Cas.” Sam urges, and Cas flicks the cap off his bottle with a simple wave of his hand. “Shall we stick with tradition? You’re up first. Truth or Dare?”

Cas is unable to answer for a moment because he is busy swallowing down a hefty amount of what looks like really horrible tequila, but he eventually stops, wipes his glistening lips on his sleeve and answers confidently. “Dare.”

Sam rubs his hands together, the asshole, and Dean wonders why he didn’t insist earlier that Sam be the one to go first. He must have been distracted somehow. Maybe by the sight of Castiel's throat, exposed and slender as he swallowed the alcohol, now swimming through his Angelic veins. Dean blinks, annoyed with his own brain.

“I dare you to-”

“Wait a minute.” Dean interrupts, holding up a finger to silence Sam. “I wanna dare him this time.”

Castiel looks surprised, then pleased, then worried. Sam laughs. “Be my guest.”

Dean turns to Cas, nervous for God knows what reason. “I dare you…” He thinks for a moment, his mind running wild with ideas, some of which he has to fiercely squash down. Must be the beer messing with his mind, he reasons. “…to make Sam bald! For the entire duration of this game.”

Castiel smiles, looking down at his fingers in amusement. He takes another sip.

“What?!” Sam cries, hysterical. “Are you crazy Dean? He’s not gonna-” Sam stops mid-sentence, distracted by the sight of his brother doubled over, mouth open in silent laughter, tears filling his eyes. Sam closes his eyes, pressing his lips together. “It’s already happened, hasn’t it?”

Castiel sniggers behind his bottle, avoiding Sam’s eyes. Sam takes a deep breath and gingerly lifts his hand to his head, whimpering as his fingers come into contact with bare, goosepimpled flesh rather than his usual shaggy mane.

Sam lets out a cry of anguish, setting his beer down to feel the extent of the damage with both hands. Dean can’t contain himself, he doesn’t remember laughing this hard in a long time. Tears stream down his face at the sight of his little brother, mouth open in dismay, eyes looking upwards as he tries to see the sight for himself. He resembles a very unhappy egg, resting atop a two giant shoulders and an enormous torso.

“Aw man,” Dean squeaks out, turning away reluctantly from the spectacle to give Cas a well-deserved pat on the back, “Cas you win this round, kudos!”

Cas smiles at Dean, clearly happy he has made the older Winchester so elated, despite having to cause upset in the other Winchester in the process.

“I believe it’s now someone else’s turn?” Cas asks hesitantly, attempting to get the game back on track.

“Yeah, sure Cas.” Dean replies, digging into his pocket and drawing out his phone. “Just one sec- got it!”

“Dean _no!_ ” Sam yells, lunging for the device after the camera shutter goes off, capturing this hideous moment forever. “You said just during the game!”

Dean laughs and waggles his phone, out of Sam’s reach. “Didn’t say nothin’ about pictures Sammy.”

Sam buries his face in his hands.

“Right. Okay Malkovich, Truth Or Dare?” Dean asks him, grinning. Sam lifts his head from his fingers and glares.

“Sam,” Cas says, leaning forwards, still smiling a little because he can’t possibly help it, “I promise I will restore your hair to its normal length after the game is over.”

Sam nods, glum but seeming to accept. He glares at Dean again, and reaches for his beer. “Dare.”

“Wahey!” Dean cries, draining his beer and grabbing another. “Go Sammy! Nice to see your ballsy side for once.”

Sam just shakes his head, pursing his lips. Under normal circumstances that head shake would have been made more impressive by the long curtain of Sam’s hair, Dean thinks wryly.

“May I?” Castiel asks, and Dean turns to him, shocked. He’s torn; this is his opportunity to further humiliate Sam, potentially giving him teasing material for weeks to come, but then again – Cas is asking so politely and sweetly, his deep, pure blue eyes urging Dean to allow this. Dean chews his lip, unsure as he stares at Cas, feeling a sensation begin to pool in his belly as the Angel tilts his head to the side.

Then he notices Cas’s tequila bottle; half drunk already. Hell yeah he can dare Sam, he’s tipsy and hell, he's probably got something awesome planned knowing the sneaky son of a bitch.

Dean claps him on the shoulder. “Course you can, man!”

Castiel smirks, tearing his eyes away from Dean and fixating them on Sam. The younger Winchester looks a little frightened, as well he should, Dean thinks.

“I dare you, Sam, to show me what a ‘lap dance’ is.” Castiel says coolly, and both Dean and Sam’s jaws drop. Castiel holds up a finger before Sam can respond, indicating he’s not done, he just wants another swig of tequila. After the bottle is taken from his lips, he continues. “On Dean.”

“What?!” The Winchesters say together, staring at Cas in disbelief.

Castiel just raises his eyebrows, smiling. “What? I still don’t know what it is, this is the perfect way to demonstrate, so I can study as an outsider.”

Sam splutters, knocking his beer over with his flailing hands – luckily there isn’t much left. “Cas, Dean is my _brother_!” Sam cries in a disgusted voice. “That’s just wrong!”

Castiel sighs, leaning back against the end of Dean’s bed, cushioned by one of the pillows. His finger circles the lip of his bottle and he shakes his head. “Unless you want to forfeit…”

“Cas, I trusted you man!” Dean wails, and he shrinks away from Sam’s gaze as his brother seemingly starts to contemplate the idea. “You’re gonna ruin lap dances for me forever!”

Castiel leans close to Dean, patting him on the shoulder with a faux-sympathy Dean has never seen in the Angel’s sadistic smirking face before. “Drink more.”

Dean has to agree, if this is actually going to happen, more alcohol is a _necessity._ He grabs one for Sam too, not looking as he hands it to his brother.

“Okay,” Sam says, breathing deeply, “here’s the plan. It’ll last ten seconds max, Dean, you keep your eyes firmly _closed_ , and I’ll pretend I’m lap dancing a cute girl.”

Castiel grins, sipping more tequila, and shifts to get comfortable and watch. “Excellent plan, truly.”

Dean grimaces, but nods, and both boys chug half their beers. They lock eyes, then look away, and Sam gets on his knees, crawling over to where Dean sits, back against the end of his bed, right next to Cas. Dean decides he’ll just stare at Cas throughout the ordeal, because the Angel’s stupid smirking face seems to calm him right now, though he doesn’t quite know why.

“Thanks for this man!” Dean says sarcastically, wincing as Sam straddles him, keeping his eyes locked on Cas’s.

“Don’t be silly Dean.” Cas replies, tutting impatiently. “It’s I who should be thanking you two, for giving me such a vivid, in-person demonstration of a basic human ritual.”

Dean tries with all his might not to shove his middle finger up at Cas, and then he feels Sam start to begin. Dean’s eyes lock with Cas’s as he feels Sam gyrating over his thighs, his brother’s weirdly warm body pressing against his, Sam’s whimpers as he feels how wrong it is.

Cas stares at Dean right back, and the smirk on his face slowly drips off, their staring match becoming intense, something other. Dean would never, not _ever_ admit it out loud, but he can feel that Sam is – he wants to puke for thinking it – quite good at this. As in, he’s definitely had practice.

Time ticks on, and Cas is definitely not learning anything about lap dances from staring at Dean’s face, but he seems to be doing it regardless. Dean focuses on the minute details of the angel, the faint creases beside his ultramarine eyes, smooth, tanned skin speckled with dark stubble, his papery pink, full lips. His gaze travels downwards as Sam jostles him, lingering on the Angel’s hips, and for a split second, faster than he can even blink, Dean manages to imagine it’s Cas on top of him right now, moving and grinding and swaying his body. The thought is almost too much for Dean and he inhales sharply, eyes locking with Cas’s again, finding the Angel still staring, eyes full of wonder and something like yearning.

Then Dean makes the mistake of glancing up at Sam, seeing an enormous, completely bald gigantor writhing around above him, and the illusion is ruined. He pushes Sam off, making retching sounds, and Sam looks relieved.

“Was that ten seconds Cas?” Sam asks, actually panting goddamn him.

“Hm?” Cas asks, dragging his gaze back to Sam. “Oh, yes.” The smirk returns. “That was a perfectly adequate demonstration, thank you both.”

Sam sighs, relieved, and chugs the rest of his beer. “Okay Dean.” Sam says, rounding on his brother. “Your turn. Truth Or Dare?”

“Uh, truth.” Dean says, swigging beer. He looks at the disappointed faces either side of him. “Well we haven’t had it yet!”

Sam sighs. “But I have so many great dares!”

“I know. That is also part of my decision.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Okay…” He looks around the room for inspiration, thinking. “Hm…” His gaze settles on Cas. Of course.

Sam grins, and Cas just looks at Dean distractedly, a slight smile on his lips.

“What was it like? Describe in detail.”

Dean’s brows knit together at Sam’s words. He tries to ignore the roiling fear in his stomach nonetheless. “What was what like?”

Sam’s eyes flicker amusedly between Cas and Dean. They both stare back, uncomprehending.

“To kiss Cas!” Sam declares. “Duh.”

Dean’s stomach drops, his breath hitching. Suddenly he doesn’t seem to be able to get enough air into his windpipe. “Come on, Sam.” He mutters, having trouble finding his mouth with the lips of the beer bottle all of a sudden. “That’s…”

“A fantastic truth? I know.”

Dean’s eyes flick to Cas, who looks nervous but interested all the same. He sighs, defeated, and wonders how the Hell he is supposed to word this without coming off like an asshole or a lovesick moron.

“It was… y’know… nice.” Dean answers, cheeks already flame red.

Sam rolls his eyes again. “Nice? I did say to describe in detail, Dean.”

Dean shifts uncomfortably, unable to meet Cas’s eyes.

“He seemed to enjoy it at the t-” Cas begins, and Dean’s hand slams itself over the Angel’s mouth quicker than a blink. He’s over the whole ‘unable to look at him’ thing, now he’s pissed off.

“Shut _up,_ Cas!” He hisses, and Cas’s eyes are wide, startled. He glances back at Sam, and noticing the barely contained grin on his brother’s face, he slumps his shoulders, letting his hand fall away. “Yeah, okay, it was nice, I enjoyed it.”

Dean pauses, checking everyone’s faces to make sure he didn’t step over the line.

“I-I mean, obviously Cas is just… he’s my friend, and I didn’t say I _wanted_ to-” Dean turns to Cas, hurriedly trying to smooth things over. “-well, not that I _didn’t_ want to- I guess it had never really, um, crossed my mind?”

Cas tilts his head, looking very faintly amused, but listening intently, clearly wanting to hear every word.

“Um, but seeing as I did have to… I guess it wasn’t… unpleasant. He’s got, um, nice eyes. I mean lips! I mean… well, c’mon Sam, you have to admit, he’s not a bad lookin’-”

Sam cracks up laughing then, unable to keep it inside by this point apparently.

“You know what, screw this, I don’t have to answer any more than that. I’m done.” Dean says crossly, slamming his beer down and standing up.

“Dean, wait-” It’s Cas’s voice, but Dean doesn’t stop moving.

“Bathroom.” He says, clearly irritable.

He stays in there a long time, splashing his face with cold water, breathing deeply, mostly wondering what the hell is wrong with him and hoping he stops being so stupidly drunk soon.

By the time he comes back out, Sam is sprawled on the floor, stupid too-long hair firmly back in position atop his head. He's fallen asleep yet again, and Cas is gone.


	3. The Third Game Of Truth Or Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, the third time… Dean’s pretty sure it’s actually Cas’s idea, though of course Sam would claim differently."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final part, as promised. Enjoy! ;)

“Dean.”

The man in question nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of the gravelly voice speaking his name; in his defence, he’d been pretty sure he was alone until that moment.

Shock quickly turns to discomfort and embarrassment as Dean realises who it is that is speaking, his own personal humiliation Angel. Humili-Angel, he thinks scornfully.

“Alright, Cas?” Dean asks, not wanting an answer.

He’s sitting alone in a motel armchair, in front of Sam’s laptop. Sam himself has popped out to get them some much-needed grub. Dean reckons he’ll probably get pie too. Cas has appeared behind him, but Dean is purposefully not looking round.

“I’m fine, yes.” Castiel answers regardless, sounding impatient. “Dean, I want to talk to you.”

Dean scrolls down the page of his screen, not able to focus on a single thing he’s seeing there. He feels his neck heating, just from Cas’s proximity to him. Weird, not okay things are happening between him and this trenchcoated feather duster. Kissing him had – in hindsight - probably not been a good idea. He’s not entirely sure why that is, but he knows it didn’t do him any good. Fuck, he can barely _think_ about anything but feeling the warmth of Cas’s strong, solid muscles beneath him, his sure hands spreading themselves across Dean’s back, splayed, pulling him closer…

“Nothin’ to talk about.” Dean mutters, cheeks rouged from his runaway thoughts.

All at once he feels himself being moved, the chair swinging around wildly, accompanied by an impatient growl from Castiel, who shifts him one-handed. In less than a second he is facing Castiel, his chair pinned by Castiel’s hands on either of the arms. Dean is stuck, cornered by Castiel’s looming presence, his fearsome eyes looking annoyed, boring into Dean’s.

“Hey, man, I-” Dean starts to say, holding his hands up in mock surrender. Images of being beaten to a pulp by this same man in an alleyway flash across his brain. He also feels a tightening in his pants, but he chalks it up to his addled brain reacting in peculiar, nonsensical ways.

“I would like you to listen, Dean.” Castiel says firmly, and Dean just nods minutely, feeling he isn’t really in a position to argue right now. “I enjoy playing Truth Or Dare with you. I like it very much in fact. I like that I get to spend time with you and Sam when we are not hunting supernatural creatures or trying to save a doomed planet.”

Dean quirks a nervous smile, his back pressed hard against the chair. “Sure, Cas. I like spending quality time with you too.” Dean pauses, registering the expression on Cas’s face. “Plus, you get all funny and cute when you’re drunk.”

Dean internally chastises himself. Cute? Where did that come from? So basically he has no control over his mouth now. Excellent.

“Yes. Well.” Castiel continues, clearly a little confused at Dean’s words. “I think we need to play another round.”

Dean’s brow furrows and his stomach flips over. A very confusing reaction, even to himself. “Oh. Uh, why?”

Castiel sighs, letting go of the chair at last. He stands up straight, still a mighty and looming presence compared to Dean cowering in his chair. “Dean, our friendship has become strained ever since we…” He pauses, seeming to choose his words carefully. “Since Sam dared you to kiss me.”

Dean swallows, looking to the left of Cas. “I don’t think that’s…”

“Don’t argue with me, Dean.” Cas says before Dean can finish. “I know something… strange occurred between us that night. I’ve never experienced emotions like those I felt, and it caused me to re-evaluate my relationship with you, my Angelic status, my human experience – everything.”

Dean’s eyes flick back to Cas’s. The Angel pauses, licking his lips briefly before continuing. Dean follows the movement helplessly.

“You must have also experienced some confusion.” Castiel says, his fingers fidgeting nervously by his sides. “From what I understand of the game, it was not necessary for us to kiss for that long, or to that extent. The question is why we did so.”

Dean shifts uncomfortably, wishing more than anything he could run away, avoid this conversation. What does Cas want from him? Admitting the awkwardness of the situation out loud isn’t going to help anything. Hell, he’s been trying to figure out for weeks now what on earth his feelings are doing, why he can’t think about anything but Cas’s smile, the feel of his soft lips. He doesn’t have any more answers than the next guy.

“What do you want me to say, Cas?” Dean asks, his voice quiet, eyes pleading.

Cas breathes out through his nose, his eyes dropping to the floor before meeting Dean’s again. “Nothing Dean.” He states. “I believe initiating a kiss has for some reason caused a rift between us. One that I cannot…” Cas’s voice drops to just above a whisper. “I cannot bear.”

“I never wanted to cause any rifts, man, I just-” Dean starts to say, but Cas isn’t finished.

“I’ve spent time thinking about our dilemma, and it has occurred to me that without properly addressing the issue, and confronting it at the first available opportunity, it will marinate and worsen over time.” Castiel explains, and Dean tries to keep up. “In other words, tackling the problem – the rift in our friendship that is – by playing the game again and persevering would greatly improve our chances of remaining close.”

Dean stares, mildly confused. “You’re saying the best way to get over feeling awkward about kissing you,” Dean’s cheeks heat as he says it aloud, “is to play a game where Sam will undoubtedly think up worse things for us to do to each other?”

Castiel nods. “The kiss brought about certain… feelings. Or so I believe.”

Dean’s eyes widen and he looks away, gulping.

Castiel explains further. “To explore these feelings within a controlled atmosphere – the game you call ‘Truth Or Dare’ – is far better than repressing these feelings, where they will fester inside of us, eventually causing a mutual hatred for each other because we can’t do what we truly want.”

Dean splutters, feeling too hot inside his clothes all of a sudden. This is preposterous, surely. What is Cas suggesting here? That they go into the game knowing full well that they will end up doing something… inappropriate for two platonic ‘friends’, and to just be okay with that?

“I-I don’t know, Cas.” Dean says, a titter of nervous laughter escaping his lips. “I mean, Sam’s gonna think up some pretty crazy stuff for us I’d bet. What with us makin’ him bald last time and all.”

Castiel nods. “I accept this. I am willing to be open-minded in this if it means I can sort through my humanistic emotions surrounding you. I will…” Castiel pauses, gathering himself. “I will do much to ensure you are still in my life, Dean.”

Dean blows air upwards towards his hairline. “Is it… Is it worth it though?”

Castiel looks confused. “In what sense?”

“Well…” Dean shifts in his seat, rubbing his sweaty palms together. “…what if, say, we _explore_ like you suggest, and then we find we don’t like it?”

“Then we put the evening’s events behind us as a ‘drunken game’ once and for all.” Castiel replies at once. “We would then no longer wonder if either of us felt differently about the other, and could go on in our mutual levels of trust and friendship.”

Dean stares. He really has thought this out, hasn’t he? “Ok… What if…” Dean closes his eyes before continuing, not quite believing he’s about to say this. “What if we discover there are… other feelings there? Then what?”

Castiel hesitates. “We… deal with them in the usual human manner. Provided it’s a mutual reaction of course.”

Dean sucks in a breath, then swallows it. “Right.”

“Is that an agreement?” Castiel asks, and he sounds businesslike, but Dean can see in his eyes that he’s nervous about this.

Dean swallows again, looking around the room. His mind races, trying to think up better options, any other options that are as clearly and logically presented as Cas’s plan. There are none. “Yep, sure.”

The corner of Cas’s mouth quirks up in a smile. “Excellent.”

Cas looks at Dean, tilting his head, then seems to catch something, a sound travelling in the wind. He looks at the door, anxious and wide-eyed.

At precisely that moment, Sam bursts in, arms laden with shopping bags. He spots Cas, in front of Dean, still in the armchair, and hesitates, smiling.

“Oh, hey Cas.” Sam’s eyes flick between the Angel and his brother. “Am I interrupting or…?”

Dean scoffs at Sam.

“I must go.” Castiel says suddenly, nodding to Sam. “Apologies. I will see you both soon.”

He vanishes instantly, and Dean’s fists unclench, shoulders relaxing. He stands up, finally, and moves to help Sam with the groceries. Help, as in ‘look for pie’.

Sam frowns at the space Cas just stood. “He was in a hurry. Was he just dropping by or...?”

Dean shrugs, rooting around in the bag for his pastry goodness. He avoids Sam’s eyes.

“Haven’t seen him in a while either, weird.” Sam notes, and he turns back to the groceries, putting the bags down on the end of his bed. All of a sudden he turns to his brother, eyes glinting, a fresh smile on his lips. “Hey, we should play Truth Or Dare with him tonight!”

Dean rolls his eyes at the irony. 

* * *

 

So, the third time… Dean’s pretty sure it’s actually _Cas’s_ idea, though of course Sam would claim differently. Cas arrives with his own tequila this time, he’s even decided that removing his trenchcoat and jacket is a good idea, and Dean’s stomach is so full of butterflies at the sight of him that he downs two beers before they even sit down.

He can’t quite believe this is happening. He’s starting out the evening _fully aware_ that he and Cas are going to ‘explore’ tonight during the game, depending on Sam’s tactics of course. He grabs another beer and sits in his regular spot. End of his bed, next to Cas. The Angel smiles at him knowingly, an acknowledgement of their secret.

“Okay, let’s do this.” Sam declares, snapping open the can of his beer before slumping onto the floor. “Castiel! Truth…” Sam takes a sip, eyes mischievous. “Or Dare?”

Castiel looks thoughtful for a moment. “Truth.”

Dean opens his mouth, ready to ask any number of Angel-related questions that have been playing on his mind for years (‘where is your halo?’, ‘do you guys really live on clouds?’, ‘how big are your wings?’, ‘do Angels compete in wing size like humans do with the size of other body parts?’ etc.) but Sam claps his hand over Dean’s mouth before he can speak. The younger Winchester is apparently top of his game tonight.

“I got this.” He says, grinning at Cas. “If Dean,” Sammy jabs an unnecessary finger towards his brother, “invited you to sleep with him, would you?”

Dean immediately shoves Sam in the chest, hard. “Dude! What the Hell is wrong with you?”

Sam just rubs his chest, still smiling. Castiel is looking at Dean, squinting at him even. The Winchesters watch, dumbfounded, as Castiel places his bottle down, and leans close to Dean, sniffing his shoulders, his hair, his chest, even his socks.

“Cas, quit it.” Dean mutters, flushing. He gives the Angel a gentle shove to tell him to stop. Sam sniggers from the other side of him. “You don’t gotta _sniff_ me-”

Castiel sits up, a huge, silly grin plastered across his face. “I’m just _messing._ ” He says, shoving Dean gently in retaliation. Dean rolls his eyes, turning red, but smiles nonetheless. Cas is able to play tricks it would seem. Interesting. “But seriously, yes I would.”

Dean freezes, as does Sam. They both turn to Castiel slowly, watching the Angel nonchalantly pick up his tequila and drink it. The way he’d answered, so matter of factly – it took them both by surprise.

“Uh,” Sam says, half-smiling, half shocked, “you would?”

Castiel turns his attention back to Sam. “Yes. I enjoyed kissing your brother a lot. I don’t imagine that continuing that experience would be a bad thing.”

Dean can’t speak, not that he’d know what to say.

“You’re an attractive man, Dean.” Castiel says, his eyes flicking over to the man in question. “Experienced too, I am certain that would be beneficial.”

“Oh my god.” Sam laughs, picking up his can. “I need another drink. Wow.”

Dean nods to Cas, sending wordless… thanks? Cas smiles, and turns his attention back to tequila.

“Oh,” the Angel says, lifting the bottle from his lips, “I forgot, Truth Or Dare, Sam?”

“Dare. Definitely dare.” Sam says, animation returning to his voice as the game gets back on track. “I’m so ready for this, bring it on, whatever you got-”

“I dare you to kiss me.”

Dean drops his beer at Castiel’s words, choking on what seems to be his own saliva. His ears are ringing – Cas did not just say that, he can’t have. What the Hell?

Sam stares at Dean anxiously, but Dean doesn’t notice, he’s too busy watching Cas, utterly astounded that his Angel could have dared something so… so… totally uncool. He and Cas were the only ones in this arrangement, right? They were the only ones supposed to be ‘exploring’, right? Where did Cas get off thinking he’d try it out with both of the Winchester brothers? Dean had thought Cas wanted to do this because he felt something for Dean in particular, not just because he wanted to explore the kinkier side of humanity.

Fuck this, Dean thinks.

He grabs another beer, watching with gritted teeth as his last soaks into the carpet.

“Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Cas.” Sam answers, swallowing nervously, shooting anxious glances at his brother, who is clearly not okay.

Cas furrows his brow, a faint smile on his lips. “Why on earth not?” He asks. “Dean did it. It’s okay with me if you do it Sam, so really there’s no logical reason not to.”

Sam chews his lip, trying hard to think of a way to refuse this dare without sounding like an asshole to either Cas or Dean. “Maybe Dean should-”

“It’s not Dean’s turn.” Castiel interrupts coolly. “Come on Sam, do it and then we can move along.”

Sam sighs, looking at Dean, apology in his eyes, but his brother isn’t looking back. He resigns himself to his fate and walks forwards on his knees, having to awkwardly brush past his brother to get to Cas. He doesn’t see it when Dean reluctantly looks up, watching with a stony expression as Sam leans forwards, eyes closing, lips moving towards Cas’s.

Equally, Sam doesn’t see Cas’s eyes flick to Dean, mischievous and wild as Sam brushes his lips for the first second. All at once, Dean is lunging at Sam, grappling him to the floor, hands pinning his chest down, panting heavily.

Sam’s mouth falls open, his hair splayed out on the floor around him in a mad halo. “Dean, I didn’t mean…”

“Save it.” Dean spits, his face murderous. “No kissing Cas, capiche?!”

Sam nods, actually a little scared of Dean right now. Well, he is currently pinned to the floor, a throbbing pain in his chest from where he was tackled. “Yeah, sure capiche.”

Dean moves off his brother and settles back into position, swigging more beer.

Sam sits up slowly and looks towards Castiel; he’s sitting quietly, staring at Dean in amazement, joy in his expression at what just occurred.

“I’m gonna… go to the bathroom.” Sam says, not even sure they can hear him. He ambles off, limping slightly.

Dean rounds on Cas the moment his brother is out of sight, jabbing the Angel in the shoulder. “Okay, just what the Hell was that?!”

Cas smiles, sipping clear, strong smelling liquid. “I wanted to see what you would do.”

“What?!” Dean cries. “Are you insane?! I tackled my own brother!”

“Exactly.” Castiel replies, smiling as if it’s the best thing that has ever happened. “I have read and observed that jealousy is a particularly prominent emotion that arises in matters of romantic attachments.” Dean gapes. “Your reaction signifies that there _are_ other feelings we need to explore. But time will tell.”

Dean lets go of his anger in an enormous rush. Was that really what just occurred?

Before he can reply to Cas however, Sam re-enters the room. He looks a little scared. Dean barks a laugh at him.

“Hey, sorry Sammy. Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Sam scowls at him. “You didn’t. Asswipe.”

“But uh, yeah,” Dean continues, forcing some laughter out as he sips his beer, not looking at Sam, “Cas here is off limits to you. Anyway! Truth Or Dare. Who’s turn is it?”

Sam raises his eyebrows at Dean. “Yours.”

Uh oh, Dean thinks. Payback time.

“Right. Um, Dare.”

“I think Sam and I should confer on this one.” Cas says immediately. “Do you agree, Sam?”

Sam grins at the Angel, nodding excitedly and beckoning him over. He catches Dean glaring at him in warning as the Angel crawls past the beer cans to Sam’s side. “Oh my God, relax dude I’m not gonna make out with him.”

Dean flushes red and turns back to his beer, grumbling. The others begin whispering excitedly, like teen girls at a slumber party, Dean thinks.

“Hurry up.” Dean mutters.

“You sure?” Dean hears Sam asking Cas, his voice a stage whisper. “You don’t mind?”

Cas shakes his head happily, filled with glee, and the two of them turn to Dean.

“Okay, Dean.” Cas says, unable to keep the smile off his face apparently.

“Bring it on.”

“You’ve gotta demonstrate how you would… ‘charm’ someone into bed with you.” Sam explains, and Dean looks at them with mistrust. Surely that can’t be it. “On Cas.”

Oh, of course! Dean thinks, and groans a little.

“Don’t worry Dean, I’ll play along.” Castiel assures him, and when Dean glances up, the Angel winks.

Dean sighs. “Alright, fine.” He pats the space beside him, where Cas was sitting before, indicating the Angel should sit back there now. “C’mere then.”

Cas does so obediently, eyes shining with anticipation. Dean’s gotta admit, he’s probably never had a more willing audience. He glances at Sam, who is clutching his beer tightly, adjusting his position so he’s comfortable while watching.

Alright, he thinks. Showtime.

Dean closes his eyes, and like he has so many times before, slides on his game face. His charming grin, his hooded, devil-may-care eyes, his mischievous quirked eyebrow. They all fit into position, muscle memory doing all the work for him, and, ignoring Sam’s laughter, he directs this face – the face that has launched a thousand girls into bed with him – onto Cas.

Castiel sucks in a breath, eager, excited.

“Hey gorgeous.” Dean purrs at Cas, leaning in close and raking his gaze up and down the Angel’s body, noting how the white shirt clings to him, hugging his waist, almost transparent in some places. It helps a lot that Cas is actually pretty hot. For a guy. “Don’t see much of your kind round here.”

Sam barks another laugh at that, but Dean is finding it weirdly easy to tune him out. Especially with the way Cas is looking back at him right now.

“W-what kind would that be, mister?” Cas asks, and this close up Dean can see his rosy cheeks. Cas is getting flustered. Dean licks his lips.

He threads his arm slowly around the back of Cas’s neck, fingers playing idly with the short, soft tendrils at the base of his skull. He leans in close, positioning his mouth right by Cas’s ear, ensuring he can feel the breath of his silky words brushing against delicate skin.

“Angels.” Dean breathes, soft and low, mentally high fiving himself when Cas shudders.

Then the Angel pulls back slightly, confusion on his face. “Dean, in this scenario how would you know I was an Angel-”

Dean rolls his eyes, knowing what the idgit is going to say before the sentence is even out of his mouth, so he does the only thing he can think of to stop him ruining the moment. Well, the only thing he can think of _period_ , considering how close their faces are, and considering the proximity of that gorgeous pink, crêpe paper mouth to his own.

He presses their lips together, suppressing a noise in his throat as he feels the familiar goosebumps rocketing over his flesh, the same burst of indescribable wholeness, the shimmering light inside of him as Cas kisses back, stunned and hungry for him regardless.

Dean pulls away, determined to win the dare, and Cas falls forwards a little, keeping his eyes closed a fraction of a second too long.

Dean steadies him, catching his eyes and smiling, normally this time, his charming mask disappearing. Cas can’t seem to help the way his face lights up when he realises the extent of what just happened, just like he can’t stop the flush running up his throat and blooming in his cheeks. Cas looks away, and Dean unwinds his arm regretfully.

“So?” Dean asks conversationally, turning back to Sam. “Do I win?”

Sam is looking a little disturbed, but also kind of impressed. “Uh, I guess that’s up to Cas.”

Cas looks up at the sound of his name, his mind clearly elsewhere. “Hm?”

“Would you, uh,” Sam coughs, not really wanting to say the next part, “go to bed with Dean, if um, if that happened to you and you didn’t know him?”

Cas blinks at Sam, then looks across at Dean. He seems a little drunk; Dean wonders if it's from tequila or something else. “Yes.” He replies, never breaking eye contact. “Absolutely I would.”

“Cool.” Sam says, clearly a bit uncomfortable. Dean and Cas continue their staring. “Let’s move on then, shall we?”

“Truth Or Dare, Cas?” Dean asks, still looking at the Angel. He brings a beer to his lips and sips it without looking away.

“Dare.”

Sam sighs, clapping his hands to get the two morons to stop eyefucking. “Okay Cas, I dare you…” Sam looks about him for inspiration, deciding that he should just continue the Dean/Cas theme because it would almost be cruel for him to stop. Think of their reactions. They’re enjoying it far too much, he thinks. “…do a belly shot of tequila _off Dean_ every time someone says your name.”

Dean’s eyes go wide. Will he like this? He’s not so sure. Cas seems nonplussed however, and almost immediately starts shifting Dean into position, laying him on the floor and straddling his thighs with hungry eyes.

“Hold- hold on!” Dean yelps, Cas’s fingers wrestling with his on the hem of his shirt. “No one’s said your name yet, buddy!”

Sam laughs when Cas immediately turns to him, eyes expectant, the tequila bottle uncapped and ready in his hand. Sam shrugs at Dean, who gulps nervously. “Castiel.”

Castiel grins, swatting Dean’s hands away easily before yanking up his shirt. Dean tries not to notice the good few seconds Cas spends checking out his abs, and squeezes his eyes shut. He quickly opens them however at the sensation of cold liquid being poured across his stomach, and he lets out a yelp, jumping in surprise.

Castiel tuts. “Now look what you’ve done. You spilled it all. I’m gonna have to lick all that up, and put more in.”

Dean stares at him, mouth agape, and catches his twinkling eye. He’s loving this, the kinky son of a bitch. ‘Exploring’, yeah right, thinks Dean. Cas has totally figured out his ‘emotions’, clearly they are not platonic.

Cas pours more tequila into Dean’s belly button, a tanned goblet of crystal clear liquid, and then, all too eager, Cas bends low to take his shot. Dean only really sees the top of Cas’s head from his position, a thick mop of dark, unruly hair, but he _feels_ Cas’s tongue as it laps up the tequila, feels it drag slowly across his skin, clearly savouring every taste. Dean’s eyes flutter as Cas’s tongue roams across him, licking up stray rivulets of alcohol that Dean had set loose when he moved.

He gets a little suspicious as Cas swipes his tongue across the patch of skin just above the waistband of his jeans, but he’s too distracted by the sparks going off inside him to really focus on whether Cas is pushing the boundaries.

In fact, Dean doesn’t really want him to stop.

He does however, leaning back on his haunches eventually, wiping his mouth with the back of his shirtsleeve and grinning down at Dean.

“O…kay.” Sam says, applauding Cas’s effort. “That was um, thorough. Er, my turn?”

“Yup,” Dean says, sitting up, suddenly embarrassed that his stomach is out for all to see, “Truth Or Dare, Sammy?”

“Dare.” Sam says firmly. “Seeing as I didn’t get to do mine last time.” He glares at Dean, rubbing his chest for emphasis.

Dean laughs, grabbing his beer and swigging it. He’s really starting to feel the alcohol. “You were asking' for it Sammy-o.” Dean drains his can and throws it into the corner, grinning drunkenly. He beckons to Cas. “Castiel, conference time. One super-awesome, Angelically-fuelled dare coming right up.”

Cas grabs the tequila bottle, and before Dean realises what's happening, he's being pushed backwards again, Cas yanking up his shirt and dribbling the liquid into his belly button. "Aw crap, I forgot the name th-ING-" Dean says, his voice going up a few octaves at the first touch of Cas's tongue across his sensitive flesh. The Angel takes his time, seeming to enjoy Dean's squirms, not to mention the embarrassing noises emanating from him that Sam actually sticks his fingers in his ears to block out.

"Damn feathers, you really go to town, huh?" Dean asks, careful not to say Cas's name, and feeling his sodden shirt. Is it tequila or saliva? Who even knows anymore? At least it's only Cas, he thinks.

"I have to make sure my dare is fully completed, Dean."

Eventually he finishes, satisfied that he's got all of the tequila, and sits up, positioning Dean back against the end of the bed where he belongs, much to Dean's protestations.

"Ready?" Dean asks sarcastically once Cas has stopped moving about. 

"Ready." 

Castiel and Dean begin to throw some ideas about in a quiet whisper, glancing at Sam every so often, and periodically giggling when their hands brush, or they get lost in each other’s eyes. Sam rolls his eyes and breaks another can of beer free.

“Okay, time’s up lovebirds.”

Dean scowls at him, then smirks, because they’ve chosen their idea, and Sam is going to get it _bad._

“Your dare, Samantha, is that you have to strip, completely naked,” Sam groans, already despising his brother and the damn Angel, “and allow him," Dean points to Cas, "to take you to a public place somewhere for twenty seconds.”

Sam screws his eyes shut; Dean and Cas wait with baited breath. He opens his eyes and stands up, unbuttoning his fly. “Okay.”

Dean and Cas whoop and cheer, high fiving each other, Dean grabbing Cas around the neck and kissing him on the forehead because it seems logical right now, for some reason. Sam gets on with undressing, his face utterly determined, and Dean watches, laughing with Cas, too drunk to realise how weird it is to watch his baby brother stripping.

“Ready.” Says a naked Sam, and he holds his hand out for Cas’s tequila, swigging some down before nodding. “Let’s do this.”

“Dean, are you coming?” Cas asks, standing up, a little wobbly on his feet.

“Hell yeah!” Dean cries, and tries to stand, needing to be steadied by Cas. He blinks and all three of them are suddenly elsewhere, it’s cold outside and Dean’s in his socks, but then again Sammy is naked, hands shielding his genitalia, eyes wide as he takes in the sight around him.

They are in Central Park, in New York, by the fountain, and Sam whimpers as he sees the crowds of people around him. A few women shriek, men point, laugh and throw their cans at him, and Sam yelps as a particularly mischievous young lady comes up and slaps him on the ass.

Dean is doubled over laughing, watching Sam scurry about through the crowd, trying to maintain an air of dignity, but ultimately failing. Cas grabs onto Dean’s waist when he nearly falls from laughing, and then it’s all about the accidental embrace, how Cas holds on even though Dean has been steadied, how he’s staring at Dean’s mouth with an intensity that could set his lips aflame.

“You know what? Screw it!” Dean hears in Sam’s voice, breaking him away from the almost-moment with Cas. He looks round to see Sam standing free and bare, hands on his hips, smiling away as if it were normal. “We’re all human! We all have bodies! Well, look at mine!”

Dean splutters with laughter. Apparently Sam is ‘feeling the alcohol’ too. Or maybe he’s just delirious with cold. Castiel taps Dean on the shoulder and points, smirking, to the Police Officer walking up behind Sam, a very cross expression etched on his features.

“Oh my God!” Dean laughs, linking an arm through Cas’s as they watch the Officer’s hand clamping down on Sam’s shoulder.

Dean seems to just turn his head slightly, and then they are all back in the Motel room, Sam just as naked as before, now as white as a sheet, ready to talk his way out of an arrest for Public Nudity.

He sighs in relief when he sees where they are, and slumps down on the floor again, exhausted. Cas, feeling slightly sorry for the younger brother, pulls a blanket out of the cupboard and drapes it over Sam, covering his dignity.

“Man, that was _awesome_!” Dean declares, sitting back in position and pulling Cas down too, practically on top of him. “I’m so lucky- I mean, _we’re_ so lucky to have you around Cas.”

“Yeah. So lucky.” Sam says sarcastically, still laid out on his back, recovering from the experience.

Cas just rolls his eyes at Dean. “Because I can torture your younger brother in new, elaborate ways?”

Dean chuckles, lifting a hand to Cas’s chin and tilting his face towards him. “Well yeah, but also cause… cause you’re friggin awesome.” Dean says eloquently, his grin sloppy and adorable. “You know you’re gonna have a good time if you’re there. You’re awesome, and powerful and… cute.”

Dean realises he’s been pulling Cas’s face towards him whilst speaking. Cas doesn’t seem to mind. Or maybe he’s too drunk to notice.

“Gorgeous really…” Dean finds himself saying, not really concentrating on his own words anymore. Cas’s eyelashes are fluttering a little, casting spidery shadows on his rouged cheeks. “Those eyes man… they are- they’re somethin’ else.”

Cas smiles tentatively. “Y’know,” he says, slurring a little, “my eyes are more of a vibrant colour because my Grace shines beneath them. You happen to have chosen the part of me to comment on that’s actually… me.”

Dean grins wider, pleased with himself. Their faces are so close now it would be weird if they moved away. At least that’s what Dean tells himself. “C’mere.”

Cas leans forward all too eagerly, moulding his lips against Dean’s once more, his eyes fluttering closed as the sensations pool within him, as his Grace swirls and shivers through his vessels nerves, coiling and twisting, reacting to the promise of the kiss, to all that it entails. To Dean.

“Woah!” Sam cries, sitting up suddenly, his blanket slipping free. “Fell asleep there for a sec- aw, Hell no guys. Come on!”

Dean and Cas break apart, dazedly turning to hear the source of the interruption. “Hm?” They say together.

“Alright, Dean, your turn. Pick dare.” Sam says, clearly annoyed. Dean glances down at where the blanket has fallen askew, and grimaces. Sam tuts and readjusts it.

“Alright alright, dare.” Dean says, looking extremely unhappy that he has to lean away from Cas right now.

Sam smiles. “Awesome. Your dare is to fuck Cas, right now.”

Dean looks at Sam like he’s insane. Castiel seems suddenly interested. “What? Sam are you crazy? First of all, you’re right there! That’s super creepy, and second – I may be drunk right now, and kissing is… is yeah, good, but-”

Dean feels fingers running down the back of his neck, shortly followed by the feel of Cas pressed against one side of him, lips close to Dean’s ear. “As long as it’s in the game, we’re allowed to explore, Dean.”

Dean tries hard to ignore the fact that all of his blood has seemingly drained from his brain and gone straight to his crotch at the sound of Cas’s words. It’s difficult though, truly.

“No, Sam. I’m not doing that cause you… dared me. It’s weird!”

Dean wants to cut out his own tongue for saying that when Cas moves away, pouting a little.

“Okay then,” Sam says, a little too cheerfully for Dean’s liking, “your forfeit is to sleep in the same bed as him, all night, butt naked.”

Dean splutters, about to protest, but Sam clutches his blanket to hide his goods, stands up, still smiling and salutes both Dean and Cas as he walks to the door. “Sweet dreams fellas. Not that there’ll be any dreaming.”

Sam winks, opens to door and strolls out into the night, laughing to himself.

Dean stares, dumbfounded, after him. “Where the Hell is he going?!”

Castiel wastes no time on Sam’s behaviour however, and Dean immediately feels two arms snaking around his waist, sending his heart jackhammering against his ribcage. Cas trails his lips from the top of Dean’s shoulder to his throat, then up to his ear, biting at the lobe softly so that Dean’s breath hitches.

He feels Cas’s hands starting to inch their way down towards the hem of his shirt again, pulling the material slowly upwards, revealing toned, sunkissed torso. “To get another room, I believe.”

Dean turns to Cas, holding his hands, stopping Cas in his movements so that the Angel lets out a frustrated little squeak. “You sure about this, Cas?”

“Yes.” Castiel says impatiently, trying to wrestle his hands free. Dean holds firm and Castiel sighs. “I am, look, I worked it out – I have feelings for you that aren’t platonic. Obviously I do. I've been all to willing to kiss you and caress you over the course of the night. Dean, I want you so much it actually _hurts_.”

Dean grins at that, suddenly enjoying the power play. “Just out of interest… how far into the game did you work out that you felt… other things for me?”

Castiel stops fidgeting and looks a little embarrassed. “About when you tackled Sam to the ground.”

Dean’s brows shoot up. “Oh? And how come you didn’t just pull me aside and tell me you worked it out?”

Castiel shifts uncomfortably. “I wanted…” He sighs. “I wanted to continue the experimentation with you. I was afraid you wouldn’t reciprocate my feelings and that… that I’d never get another chance.”

Dean nods. “I see.”

There’s a brief pause. Castiel wonders if he stepped over the line.

“Dean?” Castiel asks hesitantly. “Do you reciprocate my feelings?”

Dean glances up into Cas’s eyes; a slow smile spreads across his face. Let the mischievous Angel wonder about that for a little while longer. “I dunno Cas. I think I need to do some more ‘exploring’.”

Castiel nods, looking a little forlorn, but perking up when he realises that means further shenanigans are a possibility.

“But the game is over.” He says glumly.

Dean scoffs at him. “Huh? We still have a dare to complete. What are you, chicken?”

Castiel grins, standing up unsteadily. “Never.”

“Then I demand you get naked, this instant.” Dean says, standing up himself, with difficulty. He makes his way over to his bed, stripping off his shirt as he goes. He turns to watch Cas unbuttoning his shirt as he takes off his belt and jeans, because an Angel striptease is something he does not want to miss. “And then,” Dean continues, climbing into bed and whipping off his boxers under the covers, “join me in here, Angel.”

Castiel’s fingers fumble, and he looks up from what he’s doing to see Dean, completely naked, grinning at him from his double bed, hands behind his head, eyes full of barely contained desire.

Cas’s striptease is a little short-lived after that.

“Hey, hold on a second.” Dean says as Castiel slides in beside him, hands already roaming over the exposed flesh of Dean’s muscled body, dipping into places that make Dean stutter and gasp. Cas lets out a strangled noise at Dean’s words, but stops, as requested, eyes pleading with him. “Didn’t you get a dare to do a shot off me every time someone said your name, _Castiel_?”

Cas growls at him, annoyed because he has to leave the bed for this, and Dean chuckles, watching his graceful, naked frame as he slips out to grab the tequila bottle from the floor. In an instant he has returned, gripping the bottle tightly. He rips off the covers, impatient and desperate, sending Dean into spasms of bliss.

Cas pours what seems like an unnecessary amount of tequila onto Dean’s stomach, and then a little into Dean’s mouth, and gets to work. Dean has to hand it to him, not a single drop is left on his skin by the time Cas is finished. Not that he could have really checked, considering what happened next.

* * *

 

“I reciprocate everything, Cas.” Dean says, still a little out of breath, at around five in the morning. Cas peers up at him from beneath his messy locks, smiling away like Dean is the most perfect creation in the Universe.

“I know, Dean.” He says, tracing the lines of his Anti-Possession tattoo with one finger.

Dean looks confused. “What do you mean you know?”

“You said it lots of times while in the throes of passion, Dean.” Castiel states, and Dean blinks at him. “You also said a lot of other things- or rather shouted them." Dean looks at him, brows knitted, waiting for Cas to elaborate. Cas sighs, looking awkward. "Things like… you’ve reciprocated these feelings for… a long time.”

Dean gulps, feeling the back of his neck grow warm. “I said that, huh? Weird…”

“You also said…” Cas trails off, murmuring something against Dean’s skin.

“Said what, Cas?”

Cas looks up, flashing his two brilliant blue orbs. “Said you love me.”

Dean feels himself heating up all over, and he wants to run away before Cas proves he said it, and doesn’t say it back. It’s inevitable surely, because Cas can’t love him, he’s a Goddamn Angel of the Lord! Dean is nothing, he's just some guy this glorious being was assigned to way back when. Sure, Cas says he likes being around Dean, and that he wants him in a physical sense - but these things are nothing compared to love. Love is unthinkable, uncomprehendable, something so huge Dean can't wrap his head around it. Yeah, he loves Cas. Of course he loves Cas. Has there ever been a time when he didn't? He thinks. 

No, he couldn't define it for you, couldn't say how precisely he knows he's in love with Castiel. He's just never been more sure of anything else. Looking into Cas's eyes - looking into Cas's _Grace_ is, to him, akin to staring into the stars of the Heavens, desperately trying to understand them, to see all of the beauty they hide, but failing with his ordinary human mind. 

“Huh.” Is all Dean can think of to say.

He doesn’t see Cas smiling widely, warmly, like the first kiss of sunlight touching on a new day. He only feels it as Cas slides over him, the brush of velvety, bared skin dragging over his own, until their faces are level, and they can see into each other's eyes. Dean feels Castiel lowering his body, pressing them both together, resting his weight on Dean. He closes his eyes, concentrating on the sensation of both of them being connected on every patch of skin. Castiel kisses him, slowly and deliberately, drawing Dean out of himself again, hearing the little whimpers from the man beneath him as he bites softly at Dean’s lips, trails his own down Dean’s neck.

“I’ve always loved you, Dean Winchester.”

He pretends he doesn’t hear the whimper that escapes Dean’s mouth. Instead he concentrates on the feeling of two thick arms, like winding vines, encircling him, pulling him tightly in, holding him as if to never let go.


End file.
